Peter's Temptation
by Aslan's Lamb
Summary: When Peter has to stay at the Professor's house over the holidays, he finds himself drawn to the wardrobe that had once led them to Narnia.
1. Chapter 1

It was quite reasonable that Peter should be the one to stay with professor Kirke. He was the one for whom the summer was going to be not rest but extremely hard work. The exam loomed before him like a horrific dragon that was getting closer each day, and Peter wanted to be ready to fight it when it came and to come out victorious. It was the logical decision that he should accept the help of the cleverest and most educated man that he knew. It couldn't be helped that there was onlyo_ne_ extra room at the professor's cottage. He knew all that very well and still could not help feeling miserably guilty.

At first, Peter had simply refused to go to the Professor's. If someone had to go with Lucy to spend the summer with the Scrubbs, it should be him. He would keep Eustace Scrubb from plaguing Lucy since Eustace always behaved better when Peter was around (Edmund called it "sucking up"). Peter could manage to study on his own at the Scrubbs'. Edmund would enjoy staying at the Professor's so much more. They were all good friends with the professor, but Edmund and the professor seemed to have some sort of secret understanding. Lucy called them, "kindred spirits". Peter presented this argument to his father as eloquently and reasonably as he possibly could, and after father complimented him on presenting his case so well, he told Peter that he was going to stay at the professor and there could be no two ways about it.

And so, Peter packed (mostly books) and got prepared to leave on the 5 o'clock train. At half-past three, Peter knocked on Susan's room to say goodbye. Susan kept him there for half an hour, making him promise not to study _too_ hard, to eat enough, to go to bed at a reasonable hour, to dress warmly and for heavens sake, to find time to enjoy himself. Peter smiled at her, obediently nodded at each request and finally said, "Su, stop it. You're worse than mum!" Susan laughed but did not look any less anxious and reminded him to wear boots in the case of rain. It occurred to Peter that Susan was feeling guilty as well, (after all, she was the only one going to America) and was trying to make up for it by being especially concerned. Or perhaps, not. You couldn't be sure what Susan was thinking, especially lately. At any rate, she would never admit to feeling guilty, and so Peter thought it wise not to mention it.

Susan's long stream of advice left Peter rather scrapped for time and so he hurriedly hugged Lucy, and Edmund and whispered "Aslan, go with you!" into Lucy's ear. Still, they both looked so terribly jealous that Peter immediately felt guilty again, and of course, once he began to act guilty, they quickly put brave faces on and insisted that it would be all right, that the Scrubbs really weren't that bad (Edmund nearly chocked on that one).

Peter and the professor had a wonderful time that night, talking and laughing and effortlessly "studying." You see, the professor was the kind of person that you learned from, no matter what you spoke about. He never sounded like he was teaching, but all the same you went away feeling like you've just learned plenty of excellent and useful things. Peter found that having dinner with the professor was delightful, even if the dinner was awful. And the dinner was, because the professor had hired a homeless girl to cook for him out of compassion, and now could not fire her despite the fact that she could _not_ cook.

Naturally, the conversation drifted to Narnia. And immediately, a question came to Peter's mind, a question which he desperately wanted to know the answer to but wasn't sure if he _ought_ to know the answer. And he was so busy trying to decide if he should ask it, that he stopped paying attention to the professor's theory on Narnian economy before the White Witch's reign. "I suppose I'm not sure," he answered when asked whether Narnians grew tea, and then grew quite red when the professor raised one bushy eyebrow. And then Peter knew that he would have no peace until he knew the answer to his question and hurriedly blurted out, "Have you still got the wardrobe?" He knew the professor had to sell many things when he moved to the cottage. And where would a wardrobe be placed, in a home this small?

The professor smiled. "It's upstairs in the attic. You didn't think I'd sell it, did you?"


	2. Chapter 2

Peter opened his eyes. Lucy always said that if you wanted to fall asleep, it was best to stop trying. But if you were trying not to try, if you were conscious of not trying, then you really were trying anyway, weren't you?

He had tried not to think of the wardrobe all evening and had failed miserably. Well, fine then, he thought with a certain defiance. He wouldn't try anymore. He would stay awake and he would remember just what the wardrobe was like, dark brown, rough, and smelling of naphthalene. And he would wonder whether it was on the fourth or fifth step into the wardrobe that he first had the sensation of being outside, of breathing cold air and stepping on snow. And he would think of all that had come after that…

And the day when Aslan had told them, they would never return.

_He and Susan met by Aslan's How while even the birds were still asleep._

Had the sky been dark? Or had the Narnian sun already risen? He didn't remember.

_"What do you think he will say?" Susan asked, rather nervously._

_"Aslan?" Peter shrugged. "With Aslan, one never knows for sure."_

_He didn't tell Susan what he suspected Aslan would say._

_For that past week, Peter had been feeling rather queer. He would be in the middle of something delightful, a romp with the playful squirrels, a dance with the lively fawns, a deep conversation with one of the wise Centaurs, and suddenly, he would be overwhelmed with such a strong love for Narnia that it made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. Yes, cry, because there was something painful in that love, something heartbreaking, although Peter wasn't quite sure what. But, he was almost sure that whatever Aslan had to say to him, would explain it. _

No, that part he remembered perfectly.

_And then…_

"_You will not be returning to Narnia," Aslan told them._

Back then he had been the strong one, telling Susan not to cry, saying that the memories would be enough to sustain them, would_ have_ to be enough to sustain them.

He had really believed that.

The wardrobe is upstairs in the attic, he thought irrelevantly.

And he wondered: If someone was to enter Narnia through the wardrobe now, where would he end up? Did that wardrobe still stand in the Narnian woods, a thousand years later? If it did not exist anymore in Narnia, would the wardrobe take one to the time when it _had_ still existed, perhaps back to the Golden Age? Or even all the way back to the reign of the White Witch? It made no sense, he knew, but then going back to being thirteen after having been twenty-three made very little sense, and coming back a year later to find that a thousand years had passed, made even less sense. Why couldn't the wardrobe be the door, not just to a place, but to a certain time?

A time when he was still king.

It made little sense.

But then the whole idea of Narnia made little sense. Had everything happened exactly the way he remembered it? Peter had studied politics and sciences and philosophies this year, and the standards they set for a successful flourishing society were so…different.

I'm not quite so sure I believe in Narnia anymore, he thought in horror. And then he thought of the wardrobe once again. If he could just relive that rainy day when they had stumbled into Narnia, or at least part of it. If he could just look long and hard at the wardrobe, touch its' knotty side and perhaps take just one step into it, that would be enough. He'd remember and be convinced.

I must be convinced, he thought. I can't lose my faith in Narnia. I'll do anything to be convinced. With that thought, he stood up and quietly made his way upstairs to the attic.


	3. Chapter 3

This has been bouncing around in my head for months and it is such a relief to finally put it down on paper! Although a disappointment too, because things look different on paper. For example, I hate the title of this story. I think it's too straightforward. Please read, enjoy and if you can think of a better title for this story, let me know in your reviews!

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The attic was dark and dusty and Peter had to go back down to his room and get his flashlight. The fact that he didn't think of a flashlight right away was only proof of how distracted he was. Back with the flashlight, he gasped at the amount of things cluttered on top of each other without any sort of order. It seemed as if the professor had chosen a souvenir from every room in the mansion and then piled it all in one area. How on Earth would he find the wardrobe before morning? Susan would probably say to come back in the morning and Ed would probably throw things around a bit and manage to find several other useful things lying in his path. Peter carefully picked up a bust of someone's head and moved it slightly to the right before taking a step forward. He would find it.

Peter heaved aside one last suit of armor, sneezed at the dust that rose in the air and stared at the wardrobe in silence. It hadn't changed a bit. He touched the door. It opened easily. It was dark and silent inside. And Peter now realized that touching it, even glancing inside, wasn't enough.

He had made a mistake in coming here.

If Peter had been with Susan he would have done the right thing in an instant. He would have taken a deep breath, closed the wardrobe door, and walked downstairs to bed. He would make sure Susan did the same. If he had to, he would keep her away from the door by force and reason with her until she understood. As the oldest child, doing the right thing in order to set an example to the others was natural to him. He knew they'd follow him and that gave him incredible responsibility. There was a sort of silent pressure in their presence that always pushed him to act with integrity and always made the three believe that Peter was the most honorable person they knew. But he was honorable _because_ he was with them. If Susan had been there, Peter would have turned away immediately.

But Susan was not there. Peter was alone. And nobody was watching.

So Peter remained by that door because he didn't dare to act and couldn't bear not to. He thought of all that made Narnia glorious, the battles and the victories, the loyalty and love and the wild beauty in everything Narnian that this world could never understand. And Aslan…but he couldn't bear to think of him just now because of these words…_You shall never return to Narnia. _Peter took a convulsive breath of the hot and dusty attic air. Just a few steps away was Narnian air, strong and pure and new. And then, at once, Peter moved forward and stepped into the wardrobe.

It was Peter's nature not to hesitate after finally making a decision but to act boldly and not look back, so he plunged into the wardrobe and took quick and determined steps. Just a breath of Narnian air, just a glance, just a slight touch and he would be out and back and satisfied, he told himself.

And then his outstretched arms hit the hard back of the wardrobe.

He stopped. Then he pressed himself against the wardrobe and desperately ran his fingers along the entire back, looking for a crack, another opening, something, anything.

Nothing. The wall was solid. And then Peter slumped down on the floor of the wardrobe, with tears in his eyes.

At first, they were tears of bitter disappointment. He had really believed it would be there, had longed for it so and it was closed to him now, and somehow he sensed it, he knew that this wardrobe would never let him into Narnia again. They were also tears of anger, anger at Him because clearly He had a say in who could enter and who stayed out. Aslan had been standing by the entire time. Probably laughing at his torment. Peter had a sudden desire to grab something heavy and to smash the wardrobe to bits. Are you happy now? He thought. I haven't disobeyed your precious words. I haven't disobeyed, I haven't...

Who was he trying to fool? Of course, he had disobeyed. And then suddenly the realization of what he had done, of what he had almost done, came to Peter and he pulled away from the back of the wardrobe as if it was flaming hot. He had wished to enter a world, Aslan's world against Aslan's wish. He had fancied that it was his world and that the wardrobe would take him to exactly the time and place he wished. Anything could have been going on in Narnia! Even by that very same wardrobe! He could have stumbled into something important, could have muddled it up or in the very least, influenced it for the worse. He had fancied himself an experienced king, ready to take on anything, but surely not more experienced than Aslan! What had he nearly done?

Peter now saw that he had never _really_ doubted the existence of Narnia. He hadn't _really_ come to the wardrobe to be convinced. He had simply come because he desired to go to Narnia and it had nothing to do with building up his faith. It just had to do with having his own way.

And Aslan had prevented him. Aslan had prevented him, knowing that he would be hurt and disappointed and angry. But that he would come to this realization in time. And Peter found that now his tears were actually tears of gratitude. And with gratitude came a steady and easy breath of air, hot and dusty though it may have been.

Peter stood up slowly. With his hand along the wall, he walked out of the wardrobe. He walked slowly but confidently, and he did not linger. He stepped out of the wardrobe and he closed the door.


End file.
